


on the road.

by chibijelly



Category: Evil Dead (2013), Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibijelly/pseuds/chibijelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Evil Dead 2013. Someone finds Mia on the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the road.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



When he finds her by the side of the road she's barely breathing. Her gasps are shallow, her skin a sickly shade of pale. There's blood everywhere - caked in her hair and on her tattered clothes, dried in a pool around her crumpled body, congealed around what remains of her left arm. Her legs are scraped up, her face ripped open from where cheek met asphalt what seems like days ago.

She had tried limping out of the woods and into the nearest town once the sun came up, had hoped someone would drive by and maybe stop to help. Her legs gave out barely a mile away from where the cabin had sat, no thanks to the gaping slice in her knee. The roads between the mountains were hardly traveled. There's no one around for miles. With her luck, not a soul knew they were even out there that weekend.

She twitches, makes a pathetic noise. It's all she can do. She's past crying - there's no more tears. They wouldn't help her now anyway. Her fingers tighten into a death grip around whatever is in her good hand, her knuckles cracking. A chain of wooden beads is threaded between her fingers. It's the only thing she has left.

Her blue eyes are dark, unfocused. Everything's a hazy blur. Occasionally she blacks out. Blame the loss of blood, the sheer exhaustion, the fever caused by the infection, her body still in the throes of withdrawal. The heroin is still working its way out of her system - no amount of seemingly magical burials could fix that.

She finally shuts her eyes, lets out a shaky breath, and hardly notices the hand that touches her shoulder. It shakes her gently. Then with a bit more force. It's a delayed response, but she murmurs her brother's name. Surely he's found her, and he'll take her home, and everything will be okay.

"No, kid," is all he says.

The stranger crouched down beside her gingerly pulls her into his lap, cradling her in his arms, but she shudders, hissing softly from the pain. It isn't long until she passes out, at last feeling warm and safe with her head against his chest. 

When he picks himself up from the ground, hoisting her up with him, the spyglass falls from her palm with its chain still wrapped around her fingers. He notices the glass glinting in the sunlight, and grabs for it with his metal hand, holding the girl close to him. He regards the pendant with some familiarity - it's nearly identical to the one around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt. Instead of plucking it away from her, he closes her fingers around it, making sure it stays in her hand. And then he sets off down the road with her, far away from the woods. He'll take her to the hospital, make sure she's taken care of. Then - who knows. He didn't expect to find her here, or the still crackling ruins of the cabin, or the book in the mud. But that's usually how these things happen - quickly and unexpected. He should know.


End file.
